


Three Years

by americanKarkat



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Episode Ten spoiler, I love the Otabek waiting til Yuri is 18 thing tho, M/M, Poor Yuri's foot, This was a vent thing tbh, ish, riperooni, this was so short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 07:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8835292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americanKarkat/pseuds/americanKarkat
Summary: In which Yuri loses the Grand Prix Final and is upset about it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [ http://archiveofourown.org/works/8797945 ]
> 
> Inspired barely by this story, but I thought that I should mention it anyways because it's great writing :00

Second place.

Who was surprised that Yuuri Katsuki took the gold? With the announcement that they were only going to get married if he brought home the gold, what greater motivation could a person have, right?

As everyone crowded around Yuuri, congratulating him on his medal and his engagement, a small, petite blonde fifteen year old snuck out of the room. After rushing to change out of his costume and into his regular outfit, he brought up the hood and made his made to a secluded area in the skating rink.

Yuri Plisetsky had a total score of 297.  
Yuuri Katsuki had a total score of 301.  
The bullshit of the scoring system was off the hook.

With the left leg, he stood firm with that and propelled his right leg into the wall, making a harsh 'thud' sound. A breath was exhaled out in an annoying sigh. The angry smol continued kicking at the concrete wall, part of the brick chipping off of it. Yuri repeated the actions until a firm grip took on his ankle and the Russian held in a wince. He went to glare at the intruder, but found that it melted as soon as it formed.

"...Otabek," he sounded, arms slacking to his sides. Yuri wanted to fold into himself at the hard glare he was receiving, but the anger inside him was still at a high. The teen knew that if he stopped being angry, he would be sad. If he was sad, he would start crying. Like hell he would. Yet, anyways. Yuri gave a downwards motion with his foot, but the older skater wouldn't budge. "Otabek, let go." A glare was put up against a glare, staying at a standoff for a few moments, before the latter decided to speak.

"What is the benefit of breaking your foot and part of the wall?" Otabek asked, voice void of emotion per usual, but his eyes conveyed something else.

"Let go," Yuri repeated at a growl this time. Despite it, the taller, black haired male, once again, didn't falter. Once someone spends so much genuine time with the Plisetsky, he could decipher what the blond was thinking pretty well. "Beka," he started, letting his head drop, "...Please." When the black haired eighteen year old felt that all the tension was gone, he complied, only to get met with a weak punch at his chest. Otabek rose an eyebrow at that, and out of instinct, pulled the latter into a hug.

"Yuri," the Kazakh male sounded, feeling the other tense at his name being called. "Yuri, I know you're upset about the results. But, taking it out on inanimate objects isn't the answer. Especially if you're hurting yourself in the process." Yuri slowly relocated his arms to be in front of him and Otabek was wondering if the smaller boy was going to push himself away, but instead the elder one felt a drop of water soak through his jacket and then a soft sound of a sniff, followed by a cough. The fifteen year old was crying. Otabek caused this to happen, or so that's what the Kazakh male thought, anyways. He placed his chin to sit on top of the latter's head as he soothed circles with his thumb into the back of the Russian's.

"It's not fair," Yuri choked out through slurred words. "It's not fair, he beat me by four points. Four fucking points because I had too much rotation in my landing." A fist made contact with Otabek's chest again. "I was so close, dammit. Why did he want to win? For Viktor's affection and hand in marriage? Ugh. I bet he wouldn't have done that good if Viktor hadn't said those things." Otabek grabbed Yuri by the chin and made him look up.

"I know you hate him, but don't say that. I'm sure he worked hard on his routine." Yuri gave a one second glare, but then averted eye contact with a muffled 'whatever'.  
"Don't get me wrong," he started, making Yuri perk up a bit, "I don't approve of his reason for wanting the gold, but you shouldn't waste your emotions on him." Yuri gave a scoff and pushed the hand away, using the other to rub at his eyes.

"What, do you rather me use my emotions on you or something?" He teased. Otabek looked down, expectantly at him before turning Yuri's face to the side and putting a gentle kiss on the Russian's cheek. His face immediately turned into a rose tint and felt as if it was on fire.

"Maybe in three years, I would want that," Otabek deadpanned. Yuri's eyes widened a fraction and swatted at the taller man.

"H-hey! What makes you think I'll even like you in three years?!" Otabek gave a shrug and stood straight again.

"I don't. But, I'm willing to wait the three years to find out."


End file.
